CARLOMAN.
There is escape.
MARCOMIR.
What, for a child?
CARLOMAN.
[clenching his hand] Per Baccho, but my son
Shall never wear a tonsure.
MARCOMIR.
Time will prove!
You stand so free and noble in the light
Yet it is you who brought me to despair.
One cannot be a fool, one of God’s fools,
Unconscious of the ill in others’ hearts,
And not breed deadly mischief.
CARLOMAN.
I entreated
You would not come with me.